Saving Savannah (2 page)

Oh, yeah, that would work. Crazy Hal of Crazy Hal’s Strippers and Dippers would just love having her wait tables with a kid tagging along at her side. Hal’s was famous for its boneless hot wings with twelve different dipping sauces, but even more famous for the twenty-four-hour-a-day strippers. It was no environment for a child.

“You just can’t, sweetie. But we’ll do something special tonight. Maybe go to a movie.” It was dollar night, kids free, at the Bijou on Tuesdays. “Okay?”

“Okay. Kin we have popcorn .
 . . with butter?”

“Sure thing, short stuff.” She ruffled Katie’s black corkscrew curls, which were unlike her long, straight blond hair but just like Katie’s father’s. Father and daughter also shared the same mischievous dark caramel eyes. Her were a darkish blue. Immediately, Savannah crushed the image. It hurt too much and served no purpose. Matt was gone and never coming back, one of the multitude of soldiers lost in Afghanistan.

Katie yawned widely, setting down her rag.

It broke Savannah’s heart to see her daughter living this way. Heck, it broke her heart to see herself living this way. When she graduated from the University of Georgia eight years ago with high honors in secondary education, she never would have guessed that she would be jobless and homeless one day. In fact, when she’d had Katie five .
 . . almost six years ago, she’d been teaching full-time and was living in a nice apartment.

Savannah hated self-pity, but, honestly, she had become the poster girl for Murphy’s Law. Whatever could go wrong, did, in her unfortunate case.

It started with Hurricane Katrina. Her apartment and almost all of her belongings were swept away in the flood. Then the school where she was a teacher closed, and all the children were parceled out to other districts. The school never reopened. Despite her excellent credentials, she was unable to find another permanent teaching job locally.

Until recently, she was able to get by with substitute teaching, but because of government cutbacks, those assignments dried up.

In order to move to Alaska, where she heard employment opportunities abounded, she figured she needed five thousand dollars. Thus far, she had only three thousand. Murphy’s Law again, what with a mugging and a long bout with the flu, not to mention the dentist and pediatrician for Katie. Two steps forward and one step back.

Living in her car ended up being her only option for saving, unless she wanted to risk losing her daughter by going into a homeless shelter. Child Protective Services hovered there, like vultures. Oh, she had to give CPS credit. They did good for lots of neglected or abused kids, but they also thought nothing of taking a child away from her mother. Being homeless and working in a strip joint did not stack in her favor.

By the time she and Katie had completed their early morning swim at the Y, followed by a quick shower and change of clothes, they were both starving. Luckily, the St. Christopher shelter was still serving breakfast.

When they’d gone through the line and were about to sit down, Savannah noticed an old lady staring at her. A really strange old lady. Wearing tight capri pants with a glittery red tank top, a huge blond wig disproportionate to her small stature, and a generous slathering of make-up. Actually, she resembled a dolled-up version of that actress Estelle Getty who used to be on the TV show
Golden Girls
.

More important, Savannah was pretty sure the same woman had been watching her when she pulled into the parking lot a short time ago. Not a good thing. Hers and Katie’s clothing were stacked to the roof of the back seat, along with clear plastic boxes holding all their belongings, including photo albums she had luckily rescued before the flood. A person wouldn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out their situation. Staying under the radar had been Savannah’s code for too long to not be fearful of any attention now.

She led Katie to the back of the room, far from the serving area where the woman continued to stare suspiciously at her. With their backs to the cafeteria, she and Katie sat down and dug in. Scrambled eggs and toast. Pancakes and syrup. Oatmeal and dry cereal. All washed down with milk for Katie and black coffee for her. She would take several packets of crackers and a carton of orange juice with her for later.

“Hello.”

Savannah jumped with surprise, almost knocking over her coffee. Katie giggled at her side.

The old lady sank down into a chair across from them. No more than five feet tall, she had to lift her arms to rest her elbows on the table.

“Are you a grandma?” never-bashful Katie blurted out. “I don’t have no grandma.” The little devil pouted her lips with exaggerated woe. Her daughter had been on a grandmother kick for a week, ever since the grandmother of a classmate brought chocolate cupcakes to school. So far no questions about a daddy, thank God.

“No, but I’m an auntie. My real name is Louise Rivard, but you kin call me Tante Lulu.
Thass
what everyone calls me. Tante means aunt.”

Katie’s eyes went wide. She tried the words out hesitantly. “Tan-te. Lu-lu. You talk funny.”

“Katie!” Savannah admonished.

Katie ignored her and continued talking to the stranger. “Are you Spanish? My teacher, Miss Sanchez, is from Party Rico.”

Tante Lulu laughed. “No,
mon petit chou
, I’m jist Cajun from down the bayou.”

Savannah had thought she detected that lyrical accent prevalent in Southern Louisiana. Having an English minor in college, she’d once done a paper on the various patois prevalent throughout the South. The Cajun dialect was by far the most fascinating.

But wait. Her persistent daughter had a new idea, and before Savannah could halt her running tongue, the little girl asked with wonder, “You’ll be my aunt, too?”

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Too much, too soon. Not ever.

“Sure. Jist like I am to my nieces and nephews, Luc, Remy, René, Tee-John and Charmaine, and ta all the folks that ain’t blood kin but like family anyways.”

Katie practically beamed.

Savannah bristled.

“And who ’zackly are you, sweetheart?” The wily old witch was addressing her daughter, probably sensing that she would get no response from the mother.

“Katherine Mary Carrington.”

Savannah was going to have a talk with Katie again, the one where she insisted on caution with strangers, even seemingly innocent looking old ladies.

“What a pretty name fer such a pretty little girl!”

Katie preened. “But you kin call me Katie, like my mommy does.”

“Even prettier,” the old lady remarked, then looked pointedly at Savannah.

Realizing that there was no avoiding the woman, she said, “Savannah Jones.”

“I ain’t never heard of anyone named Savannah. It could be worse. I had a third cousin named Galveston. Tee, hee, hee!”

At least she hadn’t commented on her and Katie’s different last names. Although she’d never married Katie’s father, Matt Carrington, she’d given her baby his surname at birth. Big mistake, she’d learned later. Matt’s parents would love to take their only grandchild away from Savannah, and her being homeless would give them all the ammunition they’d need. Thus the need for anonymity and caution.

“I was born in Savannah,” she explained. Not that she had any reason to defend a perfectly good name.

“I dint mean no offense,” the old lady said with genuine regret.

Just then a tall, good-looking guy in khakis, a black T-shirt, and a blazer sat down next to the old lady and smiled at her and Katie. He carried two styrofoam cups of coffee, one of which he placed in front of Tante Lulu.

“This is my nephew John LeDeux. We call him Tee-John.” To Katie, she explained, “That means Little John ’cause when he was a boy, he was the littlest LeDeux.”

The guy grinned and winked at Katie. He better not wink at Savannah. She was immune to good looking men who promised the moon and then .
 . .
Oh, God! Why do I keep thinking about Matt today? I’ve got to focus, and besides, this guy is wearing a wedding band.
Not that marriage inhibited some jerks. Working where she did brought that fact home every day.

Katie flashed a toothless smile and said, “Maybe I could be Tee-Kate.”

“Sure as gators got snouts.” Tante Lulu smiled back, then added to Savannah, “Tee-John is a cop up Fontaine way.”

Savannah stiffened.
Okaaay! Time to get this show on the road!
She began to gather up the remains of their breakfast. “We have to go,” she whispered to Katie.

The old lady and the man exchanged glances.

Her reaction had caused them to be suspicious, Savannah could tell, but she couldn’t help herself. Every time she saw a policeman come in her direction, she figured that Matt’s parents or CPS had finally found her and were about to take Katie away. For all she knew, that’s exactly who this one was, though she didn’t think a hired cop would bring his elderly aunt along.

“What’s yer rush?” the nosy old biddy asked.

“I have to take Katie to kindergarten.” She checked the wall clock. “We only have fifteen minutes.”

“And Mommy has to go to work so we can earn enough money to go to Alaska. There’s polar bears in Alaska. And seals. We looked on the computer at the library.”

Savannah groaned inwardly at her daughter’s running tongue.

“And where do you work, honey?” the old lady asked Savannah.

Before she could come up with some hazy answer and drag her daughter away, Katie revealed with a giggle, “Crazy Hal’s.”

What was it with the giggling today? Katie had become a regular giggle machine. “Isn’t that a crazy name?”

“Sure is, sweetie,” Tante Lulu agreed.

But the guy gave Savannah a knowing look. Obviously, he was familiar with Crazy Hal’s.

“I’m a waitress, not a stripper.”
Not that it’s any of your business.

“Strippers are ladies that take off all their clothes,” her precocious daughter whispered to Tante Lulu.

The guy pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket. “Do you like magic tricks, Katie? I always carry these in my pocket because I have a little boy your age who loves card tricks.”

Katie nodded enthusiastically.

He began to deal them both cards and explain some game to Katie in a low voice. It soon became obvious why. He was giving his aunt time to get Savannah in her crosshairs.

“Girl .
 . .” Tante Lulu started to say.

At first, Savannah didn’t realize she was talking to her. At twenty-nine, she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had referred to her that way. And sometimes she felt so tired, she could be ninety-nine.

“Are you in trouble?” Tante Lulu continued.

“What? Why would you ask that?”

“Because St. Jude, he’s tappin’ on my shoulder ta beat the band.”

She’d always wanted to be a private dick .
 . .

“DID YOU GET her license number?” Tante Lulu asked Tee-John as the red Subaru peeled out of the parking lot.

“Yep.”

“What kin you find out about her?”

“Pretty much everything.”

“Her address?”

“Usually, except I’m thinkin’ she lives in that car.”

Tante Lulu gasped. “Why wouldja say that?”

“All the signs are there. Looks like everything they own is in that car. Bed rolls and pillows. Labeled plastic boxes. Toiletries. Clothes. Shoes. Toys. Stuff like that.”

“Thass awful. If she has a waitress job, why wouldn’t she have a place ta live, even if it ain’t real nice? And if she’s short of cash ta pay fer an apartment, why wouldn’t she stay at the homeless shelter?”

“She’s probably afraid of losing her daughter. Plus, I’d bet my left nut—I mean, my left arm that’s she’s on the run.”